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I toyed with doing it by text, but that seemed so chicken-shit, and the thought of giving Darren the chance to formulate a rejection was more than I could bear. Maybe I should have opted for a quick call, called him at the garage and booked it in just like a car repair. I mean, that’s what everyone else was probably doing, right?
I didn’t fucking know.
Urgh.
I gave ladies-who-lunch a miss this week, opting for the extra hours. It appears nobody else much fancied it either, as there was no sign of Mandy, Debbie or Steph at our usual allotted time. I served our other Monday morning customers with my usual smile, and slowly but surely the string of compliments and impressed grins worked their magic on me. My confidence grew, little by little, and by lunchtime I was determined. Now or never, make or break. No big deal.
It’s not as if I didn’t know him. Of course I knew him. And this was just a business transaction. How wrong could it possibly go?
A text message came in from Tonya.
Is it done yet? All booked in?
On my way to the booking office, I replied, wish me luck. This is your fault if it all goes wrong.
You’ll be thanking me later, she said.
I bloody hoped so.
I’d thought about it at length over the weekend. Hell, truth be told I’d hardly thought about anything else. I can’t say that the thought of spending Pop Pop’s inheritance money on a five-man orgy filled me with a massive amount of pride, but it was true to the sentiment in his instructions. It would surely be an experience of a lifetime, for good or for bad.
I just hoped Darren would appreciate my perspective on that.
There was no Porsche outside the garage when I pulled up – thank fuck for that. The garage itself was relatively quiet, the usual jam of cars stacked up waiting for their turn, but no customers in sight. I pulled up in front of the shutters, and felt eyes on me, all five pairs of them. Shit.
Darren stepped outside, armed with his usual intense stare, and I nearly crapped my new frilly knickers and reversed the car straight out of there. I took a breath, plastered on a big smile as I turned off the ignition. He’d lit up a cigarette by the time I’d made my way over. He puffed away with his eyes on me.
I heard a chorus of wolf whistles behind him, and he shot a godawful glare over his shoulder, slapped his palm against the shutters.
“Knock it off,” he barked, then he turned back to me. “Something up?”
My smile was too big, much too big. “No. Well, maybe…”
“What?” he said, and he looked worried. “Is it the girls?”
I felt like a tit. “No!” I said. “No, nothing like that. It’s about me.”
“What about you? Something wrong?”
I took a breath. Jesus. This had seemed so much easier in my head. “I’m fine,” I said. “I have a… question… it’s nothing major, no big deal…”
“Too big a deal for a text, it seems.”
“It’s more…” I stepped closer. “Personal…”
He raised his eyebrows. “Personal?”
I closed my eyes. Now or never. “I want to book in for a service,” I said. “A special service. I mean, if it’s good enough for Mandy Taylor and that blonde woman in the Porsche it’s good enough for me.” I was in flow and I couldn’t stop. “I’m a woman, Darren, the same as them. I have fantasies. I have… needs. I may not be as… obvious as they are, but I’m as up for this shit as anyone else in the village, and if they’re all doing it then why can’t I?” I paused. “I mean, I can, can’t I? You don’t need to be… some kind of…”
“Slut?” he said.
I held up a finger. “I was going to say supermodel, but slut will do.” I smiled. “So, how about it? Do you have a diary… or….”
His expression was like thunder, his jaw hard. My bravado deflated, drooped like a saggy tit.
“No,” he said. Just like that. “No fucking way.”
I’m sure I gulped like a fish, and then I asked the most basic question in the whole universe, delivered without any finesse whatsoever. “Why not?”
“You’re not signing up for a fucking gangbang, Jo, no fucking way.” His voice was raised, and I caught Buck turn his head from the corner of my eye. I felt the heat rising up, not just the burn of my cheeks, this heat was all over me, prickling my arms, my chest, as though every part of me was glowing beetroot.
“But I…” I started. “I’ve thought this through. It’s what I want. Why can’t I?” My confidence dissipated and I felt small and pathetic. I remembered Porsche-bitch’s dismissive glance, Mandy Taylor’s glee as she told me how fucking amazing it was. I held my ground regardless of how shitty it felt. “Mandy Taylor isn’t all that, Trent, and neither was that blonde you had here. If they’re bloody acceptable then why aren’t I?”
